All That's Left To Do Is Heal
by InterstellarHobbit
Summary: Story picks up where the last chapter of DH leaves off not the epilogue . The summer of 1998 was a time when Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys put their lives back together. They mourned, they rejoiced, and they rediscovered love...


Welcome!

This is the first chapter of what I hope will become a decent story. I'm sure we've all wondered exactly how Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, etc. etc., got from where they were in the last chapter of Deathly Hallows to where they were in the epilogue. Well, I've done a little investigating, and this is my idea of how it all went down. I'll try to keep this story as much to canon as possible, so please correct me if I do something wrong.

Please review! Thanks!

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Harry awoke in his four-poster bed, at the top of Gryffindor tower. It was dark in the room, the moment unusually peaceful. Harry lay there for some time, staring at two winking stars visible through the long window at the end of the room. He had no thought then, except for the aches in his body, the softness of the sheets and pillow beneath him, and that all-encompassing peace. He knew he was home, at Hogwarts. He turned his eyes to the four other beds around him, and saw them full, their occupants taking deep, steady breaths. He recognized the faces, the same he had seen every night in this room. But they were older than they used to be. Neville, his hair long, face covered in cuts and scars. Dean, skin pockmarked from what looked to be a recently removed curse. Seamus, his left sleeve torn, brown splotches of dried blood surrounding a large pink mark that looked like a nasty gash hastily healed. And Ron, his features not relaxed in sleep, fists clutched around his bed sheets. He was curled on his side, facing Harry, eyes squinted shut and glistening in the starlight. Harry saw the tear tracks still streaked across Ron's red cheeks. Then he remembered. Fred. The battle. Voldemort. The year spent with his two best friends hopping around the countryside in a borrowed tent. Fred. Harry felt the air leave his lungs in a rush. After all the pain, all the running, this should have felt like victory. But instead, all Harry could see was Fred's face, dead, his unseeing eyes staring into their twin's identical ones. And Lupin, and Tonks, and little Colin Creevey, and baby Teddy, now an orphan just like Harry. And the Weasley family, torn forever. They had all fought so bravely. They had all died heroes. They had made the sacrifice that Harry, too, knew he had been willing to make to see Voldemort disappear forever. And they had succeeded. His breath returned to him, as relief mixed itself with his sorrow. An image flew into his mind of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks all being escorted onto a train by Dumbledore in a misty King's Cross Station. The three smiled and wrung the old headmaster's hand as they boarded. Dumbledore leaned out to wink at Harry before disappearing into the train himself, the four of them off to join James, Lily, Sirius, Mad-Eye, and all the other valiant dead in whatever sort of place they existed now. He inhaled deeply, taking comfort in the thought, and closed his eyes.

The next time he opened them, the room was still dark. His sleep had been dreamless, but still, the bright sunlight of the morning before seemed a long time ago to him. He checked the clock on his bedside table – 4:12 in the morning. He lay back on his pillow, trying to figure how long he must have been asleep. It had been sometime around 10 when he had gotten up to his dormitory. Sixteen hours! And how wonderful it had been to sleep in a familiar bed, knowing that danger no longer lurked outside, waiting for him. Everyone else the dormitory was still asleep. Harry thought of staying in bed till the sun rose and woke the others, but he was restless after his long sleep. He sat up and stretched, every muscle he moved twinging in protest. He looked down at the torn, dirty robes he had been wearing for who knew how many days. With a small laugh, he realized he didn't have anything to change into. All his spare clothes were still tucked away in Hermione's little beaded bag. He stood and made his way down the corridor, past the portrait of the fat lady, and into the seventh floor halls of Hogwarts. This area had not been as badly damaged as other parts of the castle, though it still bore battle scars. Harry saw the frumpy little wizard who occupied a portrait close to the fat lady snoring lightly in the usually empty wheelbarrow portrait a few feet down the hall, his painted background lying blasted on the stone floor. He walked on, imagining the halls complete and unruined, as they had been when he was a student there for the last time. He cringed at the blood stains on the floors and walls, and at the empty suits of armor lying with their limbs at odd angles. As he walked through the third floor, he came to a place where the outer wall had been blasted away completely, revealing the trampled grounds, the sky above them graying with the coming dawn. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor and looked out. Hagrid's hut still stood, and although it was too far away for Harry to see clearly, he imagined wall-shaking snores coming from the Hagrid-sized bed in the corner, and Fang drooling on his mat by the window. One corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smile. Something moving in his peripheral drew his eyes toward the lake. There, a small figure with long red hair sat down under a tree by the bank. Harry's heart leapt, and he was on his feet, running down the staircase.

The air was still as he approached the tree, and Ginny was silent. Harry had been afraid he would walk up and find her bawling. He knew she must have heard him approach, but she did not acknowledge him. He stood beside her for a moment, then sat down, arms wrapped around his knees. He glanced to his right to see her staring into the lake's depths, hands lying motionless on the ground. He tried to think of something, anything he could say to ease the torment she must be feeling, but he was at a loss. Words could never do that kind of grief justice. It was an insult to try. He reached his arm hesitantly toward her, watching for the smallest movement of her shrinking away. Her face wrinkled, and she collapsed into his chest, sudden sobs wrenching from her body. Harry wrapped his arms around her like a vice, kissing the top of her head as her tears dampened his filthy robes. He tried to fight the stinging in his eyes, but Ginny's sobs pierced him as if they would literally split his heart in two. This battle he lost, tears rolling hot down his cheeks into Ginny's hair, and they sat there together, till the sun's first light reflected off the water.

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New chapter coming soon!


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